Scribbles, Spies, and Little White Lies
by aspiringtoeloquence
Summary: Blaine and Kurt have been friends for months, and it's about time they were more than that - this is what Wes and David have decided, and, luckily for Blaine and Kurt, they have formulated the perfect plan to make sure it happens...
1. Chapter 1

"I feel like we may not have entirely thought this through". The teenage boy frowned, peering around the corner of the building and into the school corridor. He turned back to his companion, and added "We should have at least come looking less conspicuous."

The second boy adjusted the lapel of his distinctive school blazer self consciously, then grinned at his friend and with an excited "Wait, I've got it, Wes!" put on the dark sunglasses he had been holding. "Better?" He asked.

"Brilliant, David," Wes rolled his eyed with distain. "Your talents are wasted here. With cunning like that-"

"TARGET MOVING! TARGET MOVING!" David cut him off with a flailing arm to the side of his head, pointing to the group of people moving down the hall towards them.

Not quite ready to put their plan into action (and, truth be told, still trying to solidify it in his mind), Wes pulled David out of sight, and they flattened themselves against the wall, drawing interested looks from the lunch crowd passing them by. The group in question, however, had gone in a different direction, and Wes let out a sigh of relief. His small smile of triumph soon disappeared, though, as his phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID. Caught.

"Is it him?" David asked, with a tone of mixed excitement and trepidation, while the phone continued to ring insistently.

"He must have gone back to the room for something." Wes thought for a moment, before shrugging at the phone. "What do you think?"

"Pick up. He'll just keep calling."

Wes flipped open his phone with a big smile and said (as casually as he could) " Hey, my friend. What's up?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment before an eerily calm voice could be heard.

"WHERE. IS. IT."

Wes stifled a laugh, and decided that, at this point, ignorance was his best shot. "Where's what, Blaine?"

The calm voice grew a shade more impatient at this. "Wes, do NOT screw with me. WHAT have you done with it?"

The hallway was almost deserted by this point, so Wes had put his phone on speaker. David chimed in with what he believed sounded like innocent surprise. "Why, Blaine, if you've lost something, you should go check with Security. I know they have a lost and found for all of the dorms, and I'm sure-"

"David, if you do not tell me what you have done with it, then I am going to tell your girlfriend about the time I was watching RENT in my room, and you came by to borrow my history book and stayed 'til the end..."

Wes saw slight hesitation in David's eyes and interrupted. "Blaine, I don't really think -"

" ...And sobbed for half an hour after it finished." Blaine concluded, managing to sound both triumphant and threatening at the same time.

Wes decided quickly that this conversation was not advancing his brilliant plan in any way, and so began to plot an exit strategy. " Listen, Blaine, I'm sure you just misplaced whatever it was. It's probably somewhere on the floor of your room, or behind your desk -"

David perked up "Yeah, your roommate is kind of a slob, so-"

"Hey!" The roommate in question interjected automatically, before a quick reminder – in the form of David's elbow to his ribs – brought him back to the point. "I mean, yeah. It's a mess. Papers everywhere."

He felt like he was finally getting the hang of this, so David piped up eagerly " Yeah, a small notebook could easily be left under some -" He realized his mistake when Wes pushed him, hard, into the wall they were standing next to, with a look that clearly said _'Well, you've done it now.'_ "Ow! I mean – if that's what's missing. Or whatever it is."

Blaine had clearly missed none of the exchange, or the performance for his benefit, and took in an audible breath before speaking. "Wes. David. You two are my closest friends, and I do _not _want to be angry with you. But I want the notebook back. _Now_. Bring it back to our room, Wes, and I will _consider_ listening to whatever ridiculous explanation you have. Quite why my book of scribbles and half finished song lyrics is so interesting to you, I don't know. But it's _private_, and so I would like you to retu-"

The second lunch bell rang through the halls, releasing those classes that hadn't ended yet, and Wes' efforts to muffle the noise into the phone proved futile. Blaine's voice paused at the sound, and after a moment resumed, laced with confusion. "That isn't the Dalton bell. Aren't you guys here? That sounds more like the -" In the pause that followed Wes could almost see the epiphany that was surely visible on his friend's face. There was a small gasp of remembrance as he placed the sound, and then Blaine's voice cracked in disbelief. "- Are you two at _McKinley_?"

Wes looked at David in determination. "It's time. Operation Sugarplum has commenced. Phase one, go!"

* * *

He was going to fucking kill them.

_ Relax_, they said. _It's for your own good_, they said. _We're just sick of the same minor chords being played over and over night and day_, they said. They added that if they heard Blaine sing the chorus of _Just the Way You Are_ one more time, they could not be held fully responsible for their actions. Blaine slapped his palms on the steering wheel in frustration, cursing both the 45 minute drive (and that was if he sped at levels that would have made his old driver's ed teacher frown and then pass out) to Lima and the stupidity of the two people who would soon hold the title of his _former_ best friends. Unless he got to them in time. He pulled onto the freeway, fervently hoping that Wes and David's (now doubtful) humanity would cause them to _pick up their damn phones_, only to be greeted by Wes' chirpy suggestion that he leave his name and number, and he'd get back to him as soon as possible. Blaine had already left several threatening messages since the pair had hung up on him from their hallway HQ, having justified their actions as the service of their "wonderfulest-and-most-talented-but-utterly-sickening-when-in-love best friend". He figured one more message couldn't hurt. "Wes. This is Blaine. Again. This is a reminder that I know where you sleep. Less that five feet from me. And I know your fears. And I know your girlfriend. Think VERY carefully about how you want this to play out." He ended the call. The messages had ranged from pleading to threatening as his level of panic rose and fell, and as he threw his phone onto the passenger seat he considered, for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, a pre-emptive strike. _Text Kurt_. _Warn him that your former best friends are entirely insane and have let themselves loose on an unsuspecting public high school population. _He could see the text.

_** Whatever they tell you is made up**_, he'd write. _**They must've had too much coffee. Or red bull. Last time I let Wes near an energy drink ;P**_.

It would be an easy out. A comfortable, jokey lie. A thousand people probably did the same kind of thing each day. Evaporated the tension. But he hadn't sent it. He hadn't even started to type it. And why was that? It was not, Blaine told himself, because he was secretly curious about what Kurt's reaction would be to the words he had scribbled down, guitar in hand. It was not appropriate for Kurt to know any of that. It was not even appropriate for Blaine think it, no matter how much his friends told him otherwise. He was Kurt's friend, for crying out loud.

And it was certainly not because he thought this idiotic idea of Wes' (he was fairly sure he knew the mastermind behind this was not David) had any merit. It was definitely because he had some small glimmer of hope that his friends were not entirely devoid of humanity after all. Maybe they'd decide they were being absurd and drive back to Dalton. They'd laugh about it (ie: at him) later, sure, but his thoughts – the inspired, frustrated and yes, slightly lovesick at times, outbursts - would remain unknown and unspoken. And, Blaine admitted sheepishly, he genuinely didn't want to lie to Kurt, as ridiculous as that seemed. Keeping his feelings in check was just about excusable as white lie of omission, but derailing his well meaning (but decidedly evil) friends would have to be done subtly. Preferably before anyone read Kurt anything from that notebook.

Even as a hormonal teenage boy, Blaine had always been wary of attracting the emotional/tortured-gay-teenage-musician label people seemed ready to stick on him. He didn't write music to capture and release the pain. He wrote music because to him it seemed the clearest, most pure way to express anything at all. Being a genuinely outgoing and friendly guy helped, but he made an effort not to play into the stereotype any more than he could help. Until recently, that hadn't been a problem.

He'd played guitar in the common rooms, leading sing-a-longs of oldies and pop songs, strummed through Warblers practice, accompanying his friends if they needed acoustic guitar backing, and sat in his room quietly plucking at chords and words, piecing together the words that explained who he was and where he had come from. Since he had transferred to Dalton his songs had mostly been full of hope. As cliché as he knew it was, Dalton had offered him an escape from the hell that his conservative public high school had become. And those feeling seeped into his music.

The notebook itself wouldn't seem to be much of a big deal. Blaine had never been one to keep a journal. But if phrases, ideas, or chords (or in rare cases fully formed song lyrics) occurred to him, he'd scribble them down before they slipped back into the recesses of his mind. Or sometimes he would just doodle during class (Even at brilliant schools like Dalton there are classes where it's necessary to scratch out a masterpiece or two). The book was a fragmented look into Blaine's thoughts and desires, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out what (or who) the central theme would prove to have been over the last few months... or the way in which the tone and content of the songs had changed. In fact, two morons seemed to have jumped to conclusions on those subjects fairly quickly.

He had thought he might genuinely pass out when he realized the book was gone from his desk. Then he had needed to sit down for a moment when he remembered Wes innocently picking it up and commenting that he'd been writing a lot more recently. It had been on his desk last night. And in the morning it was gone. And so was his roommate. His evil roommate and the third member of their trio, David. At McKinley. With the book.

Blaine's cheeks colored slightly remembering some of the phrases he knew were recorded in his hurried, inspired scrawl. He pushed down a little more on the accelerator.

If only they didn't have the damn notebook.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: You guy are ridiculously awesome.

Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, the canon Glee characters, or Ryan Murphy. Still.

* * *

Kurt could take a moment to appreciate the irony.

The pair were clearly under the impression they were inconspicuous, sitting peering from behind newspapers on a bench across the quad, looking like villains from a low budget spy movie. Because McKinley High students, in the boys' lamentably sheltered minds, evidently wore backwards baseball caps and dark glasses while reading _The Economist_.

And they'd called _him _a terrible spy.

He'd been a little disappointed for a moment when he realized that it was just the two of them (only because Blaine was also his _friend_, he reminded himself), but was also curious about their purpose at McKinley. They'd made no move to approach him, or any other Glee Club member at the lunch table, and they sat there furiously whispering behind their newspapers for the entirety of the 35 minute lunch period.

Kurt and Mercedes had conferenced quickly (when he first noticed them) about a confrontation, but decided to let it play out naturally. Mercedes was curious about these private school boys, and pointed out to him that alerting the rest of the club (mostly Rachel) would likely result in some hysterical drama. So Kurt picked at his salad. And texted Blaine (for the first time that day. He was proud of his self-restraint).

'_**Is there a reason why your two best friends are traveling incognito?'**_

He had come to expect a quick retort from Blaine, which is why he spent the next several minutes glancing at his phone, waiting for a message like_'__**I don't know...mental instability?'**_or _'__**I knew I should have remembered to lock the cage.'**_

When a full ten minutes had passed, he glanced up to realize that Wes and David had vacated their 'hiding spot', and were now... where were they now? As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch and the beginning of an official Glee Club rehearsal, Kurt looked around for the Dalton jackets.

Maybe they were better at this spying thing than he'd thought.

* * *

Blaine had never been a violent person – he had always pitied the bullies who felt that physical intimidation was the route to success – but when he got Kurt's message and realized that Wes and David were actually serious about this, he briefly entertained the thought that choking one or both of them a bit might prove to be cathartic. He dismissed this thought quite quickly, of course, but the urge to wreak some kind of havoc on his friends was filed away for future use.

He pulled into the McKinley parking lot 38 minutes after he'd left Dalton, grabbed his phone and scrambled out of his car, pausing to shed his school blazer and untuck his shirt as an afterthought. At least one of the Dalton boys could show he knew how to blend in.A quick glance in his wing mirror told him that running his fingers through his hair had left it a lost cause, so he sighed, locked his car, and turned towards McKinley High School.

It was time for some serious damage control.

* * *

Wes' day was not going at all to plan.

Originally it had been just another Thursday afternoon. Wake up... Shower... Uniform... Class... Lunch... Class... Warblers... Skype date with Lena. Bed. But after _another_ night listening to Blaine strum on his guitar and toy with words like blue, hope, friendship and forever, he had decided enough was enough.

So he had formulated a new plan. And, as every evil mastermind worth his salt knew, evil plans needed secret code-names. That was practically the most important part. When he had woken up David at seven thirty that morning he had informed him in no uncertain terms that this plan needed both an epic name and immediate action. Immediate like... yesterday. But he supposed today would have to do. No human being should be subjected to the sighing that went on in his dorm room. It was both heart-breaking and really really irritating.

Sadly, when he had informed his roommate of this he had only received a heavy copy of Advanced Calculus Application to the side of his head. Blaine was very lucky that he was so understanding... and that he knew when/how to steal his notebook without being noticed.

The notebook was the obvious way forward. If Blaine wouldn't tell Kurt how 'perfect and utterly adorable' he was in person, well, his best friends would just show him. In Blaine's own handwriting. Muah ha ha ha... (Wes decided that the evil laugh suited him.). It looked like a field trip to McKinley, which would be fun, and they could dress up like McKinley kids and kidnap Kurt, show him the notebook, and take him to Blaine. And then they could be all cute and cuddly, and Wes could sleep more. Everyone would win.

When David pointed out that Blaine might miss his notebook before they could carry out the plan, Wes had dismissed it. It was usually either in his friend's bag or on his desk, and Blaine would probably assume that if it was missing from one place, then it must be in the other. Their absence from classes that morning would be more problematic, but that was a bridge they'd cross later. They could always claim a trip to see their girlfriends. Or some kind of simultaneous family thing. Or an alien abduction.

Blaine's call had been unfortunate, as it had changed the plan. Wes was fairly certain that his irate best friend was on his way to try and intercept the information, and so the somewhat lackadaisical rate of progress needed to be sped up. David's sudden fit of conscience was_not_helping.

"I don't know, man, he seemed kind of mad. What if this isn't what he wants?"

Wes took a deep breath and looked his less enlightened friend in the eye. Was he entirely alone in knowing that this would work?

"David, tell me. Do you think that Blaine likes Kurt?"

"Well, obviously. But that isn't the point." David peeked at the oblivious McKinley student over his newspaper, and then leaned back in to whisper back. "But what if we just screw this up more for him? Blaine might be waiting for something, or he might have a plan -"

Wes sighed. This argument had been going on for several minutes now, and he didn't want to draw any more attention to them. He grabbed David's arm and pulled him out of the quad, eventually arriving in a deserted hallway, where he turned to his friend with conviction.

"Have you _ever_ known Blaine to have a plan for anything, when it comes to a guy?" Wes blinked incredulously at both of his friends' stupidity. For people who got such high grades, Dalton did seem to be filled with morons. "It took an _entire semester_ to get him to admit that he thought Johnny Depp was hot. Hell, I'm straight and I can recognize that the man's got nature on his side. We need to move this forward or Blaine will stay in his little I-am-the-gay-yoda-and-must-not-admit-to-having-a-crush-on-my-student mindset. And _then_ there will be more emo song lyrics. I _cannot take_ any more emo song lyrics. You don't live with him, David. You have a wall separating you from lovesick Blaine." He took a breath. " I need my best friend to be happy, and if that means I need to get punched in the face by him in the process, well... I guess I can deal." David looked shocked by this heartfelt speech, and so Wes added as an afterthought "I'd rather not, though. If we can take care of before he gets here, then that would be awesome."

David thought for a moment, then nodded in assent, and Wes let out a relieved breath as the end of lunch bell rang through the halls. "I think they have Glee next," Wes grinned "what d'ya say we go help Blaine help himself?"


	3. Chapter 3

The after lunch Glee Club meeting started as it did every week. The weekly "study period" McKinley provided was the traditional time for the club to argue about set lists, squabble over who could sing what, and laugh at Rachel's frequent self-absorbed declarations. Santana was in the middle of telling Rachel exactly where she could stick her hypothetical Tony awards when there was a knock on the open door. Mr Shue, grateful for the interruption, shifted his attention away from the cat-fight and smiled warmly at the two Dalton boys standing in the doorway. "Hello, gentlemen! I'm Mr. Shue. What can I do for -"

"**SPIES!**" Rachel shrieked, causing Finn to open his eyes (he had just been taking a short nap) and fall off of his plastic chair. She had leaped up and was pointing accusingly at the doorway until she realized that their sectional set list ideas were on the whiteboard and needed to be protected at all costs. She sprinted over to the list and attempted to block it with her body, choosing to ignore her classmates' snorts and several eye-rolls. This only had the effect, of course, of drawing more attention to the mostly exposed list, which Wes and David stepped into the classroom to see. Wes eyed the short, eclectic list for a moment before turning to Rachel with a disarming grin.

"Don't do the Celine, Captain Obvious, it's been done. And if you do insist on the Stones, then go with something a little more upbeat. Although I'd pick something from the last decade to start with, if I were you. And the judges aren't going to recognize any of those show tunes, even if you do have the voice to make them work." He barely paused for breath, before continuing down the list with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, and the medley idea isn't bad, but you need to mash that up with something that sounds more... acoustic, and less rock. Check out some Joshua Radin, or something. Strip it down to just a guitar and a voice. We're a cappella, and that's going to work to our advantage if you try to jazz it up with full orchestral backing." Rachel was staring at him looking slightly dazed, her mouth hanging open. That fact alone was enough to give Wes the complete attention of everyone in the room, a circumstance he took advantage of immediately – or rather would have, if a blond cheerleader hadn't piped up from the back of the room.

"That's what _I_ said!"

Everyone looked confused, until a brunette next to her (who was pretty hot, Wes noted) asked, " Said what, Britt?"

"That we should all strip down."

Attention shifted back immediately to Wes as though the interruption had never occurred. He couldn't help but feel slightly deflated that his big build up was ruined. Like most of his brilliant plan, in fact. Right. The plan. Should get moving before one homicidal best friend appeared. He decided to address the group first. "Hi, guys. I'm Wes, and this is David." David waved from behind Wes, and several New Directions members waved back. The greetings came from the blonde, a good looking asian couple in the front row, and a girl Wes quickly identified as Mercedes, Kurt's best friend. This wasn't hard to do, as she was sitting next to a confused looking Kurt with one arm protectively around him as she waved. Wes decided it best to abandon his brilliant kidnapping idea and get to the point. He addressed their teacher, who had looked slightly impressed by the way he had handled their set list. "Mr Shue? Yes, well, we're from Dalton, and we were wondering if we could talk to Kurt."

David found his voice and clarified. " Well, less talk and more... steal. For the afternoon."

Wes elbowed his friend sharply. "Actually, I don't think that will be necessary. I think that very soon someone" - he gave David a dark look at this - "will be looking for us, and it's best if we tell him what we need to before he arrives."

Mr Shue looked slightly flummoxed by this cryptic exchange, but found his voice fairly quickly. "Sure, as long as it's okay with Kurt. Kurt, are you sure you're -"

Kurt, although still confused, nodded quickly. He seemed to suddenly forget the flippancy of their entrance and concern filled his eyes. "It's fine, Mr. Shue." He looked at Wes with urgency. "What's up? Is Blaine – are you guys– is everything okay?"

"Well," David answered with a hurried and wry smile, having glimpsed from his vantage point near the door a dark haired figure striding through the double doors at the far end of the hall. Thankfully the figure turned down a different corridor almost immediately. He signaled Wes. They both shut the door to the hallway, locked it, and strode over to stand in front of Kurt, figuring they had about 5 minutes before Blaine stopped roaming the school and worked out which room they were in. David finally spoke. "I suppose that depends entirely on your definition of _okay_."

Kurt had already been confused, and Dalton's hijacking of the Glee meeting did nothing to help matters. He had been impressed with the way that Wes had handled Rachel's paranoia (but having met Wes' girlfriend once or twice he realized Wes may have had some practice), but still had no idea what was going on. If spying wasn't their objective... then what was? There had been a brief mention of a kidnapping, but then the door was locked and David and Wes had rounded on him and – this was all quite absurd. Where was Blaine? And why wasn't he answering Kurt's texts? Kurt got a little bit impatient. Someone had damn well better explain what was going on or -

Wes spoke hurriedly. "So, here's the deal. Blaine likes you and -"

Kurt cut in immediately, incensed beyond belief. "You interrupted my day with this ridiculous charade to _matchmake_? Go back to school. Blaine and I are friends and -"

David interrupted impatiently. " Yeah, the I'm-not-crushing-on-my-mentor-he's-just-a-really-cool-guy-I-make-puppy-dog-eyes-at thing? We don't really have time for that right now. Wes and I have risked our _lives_" - Wes nodded emphatically at this - " to bring you proof that you and Blaine are both acting like idiots, and it would be really great if we could do this quickly or we're going to have to...erm ...go."

Kurt looked at them doubtfully, but Wes could see a glimmer of hope buried quite deeply. It was the same glimmer that Blaine got whenever Wes teased him about Kurt, and usually it only served to irritate him. Now it was a relief.

Kurt saw Wes reach into his blazer pocket and pull out a notebook. It was dog-eared, clearly well used, and it wasn't until Wes shoved it into his hand that Kurt recognized the scrawl on the outside. "Is this _Blaine's_? A notebook? This is your proof?"

"Well, not it's existence." Wes snapped, causing Mercedes to swivel her eyes over to him and glare. "I mean... just look in it. Please?"

Kurt flipped it open skeptically and started looking through the pages, leaving everyone else in the room sitting watching his face in silence (with the exception of Brittany, who was humming to herself happily. Bless her). He smiled without thinking when he saw the first pages. It was just so _Blaine_. Chords were scribbled in margins with random words and phrases, and song lyrics littered the pages. Kurt recognized some of them – a few were songs Blaine liked and had quoted (more than a few of those Disney), but most were words he'd heard Blaine sing while strumming his guitar idly or play at one of the few acoustic gigs he got talked into doing at local coffee shops. There were doodles too. And what Blaine lacked in artistic training he made up for in detail and imagination. On the left side of one page a large dinosaur was eating the lyrics to Iris, while a small plane dodged around it's feet – and the lyrics to Here Comes the Sun. Kurt flipped through the pages, watching Blaine's life unfold before him. There were all kinds of songs in here – ballads, pop tunes, a few songs obviously written for a geeky unfinished musical about – oh no. Kurt drew in a sharp breath as he flipped the page. If this were a timeline of Blaine's life he knew where – or rather when – he had just landed. The drawings had disappeared, the writing had become darker and more cramped, and the words Blaine had written were spilled out inelegantly and sometimes illegibly on the page, almost like he had needed them to be anywhere but in his head. Even as a non-songwriter Kurt could recognize those feelings; Blaine had been writing in this while he was being bullied. And it had gotten bad. Some of the words and thoughts he saw on the following pages scared him with both their intensity and familiarity. On one page: '_Will I lose my dignity/ will someone care?/Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?_' Under the Rent quote was a single mark, where a tear had fallen, and Kurt could have sworn he felt his heart actually break for the scared boy who hadn't had anyone to help him, or tell him how to be brave. Then another page '_Is it all a dream or is this real?/Because if this is reality then I'm not sure I'll take it_.' Below that were three words: '_Let me out?_' Kurt inhaled sharply, then realized he was being watched and flipped through some pages hurriedly, identifying major moments – when Blaine had transferred to Dalton (there was a sketch of the courtyard fountain with the words 'does hope always = new start?' scrawled beside it), when he had joined the Warblers (their lyrics and arrangement breakdowns started appearing) and finally – Kurt gasped hugely as he turned the page – when Blaine had met a spy.

"Oh, thank god, he found it," Wes collapsed into a chair in relief. He saw the look on Kurt's face and added quickly "I didn't read it. I wouldn't. But I saw that page once and I figured – I mean, you get it, right?"

Kurt felt like that was a very complicated question, but that he might be starting to. He'd found Blaine's notebook scribblings from the day they'd met. He was mostly sure of this for several reasons, primary among them the fact that the word _**COURAGE**_ had been written in the center of the page and traced over repeatedly in black ink. He whispered the word aloud.

Wes felt the need to clarify to the Glee club what was going on. "It's kind of their thing," he said awkwardly, by way of explanation. Several of them nodded absently, but most just looked more confused.

Meanwhile Kurt was tracing over the words with his fingers. Courage had clearly been Blaine's jumping off point for writing that day, but words surrounded it. Words and phrases melted into each other and Kurt felt for the first time that he could see things in the way that Blaine did. He watched the words progress into thoughts... _spy – music – missing puzzle piece – skintight jeans :) – I'm your/ you're my teenage dream – the look in your eyes – gratitude – help – plea - blue – sea – ocean – storm – cerulean –age - concern – blush – cheek – with you/me - finally - not lost/found you – where have/I you been? – what/all you/we need – surrounded by shadow/dark/heartless world – seen your tears/crying/eyes – I still trip/stumble/try to find meaning/make sense -_the words were starting to sound familiar and Kurt realized why once he'd flipped the page again. He skimmed the fully formed lyrics to the song Blaine had evidently written just after they met and found that the tune came to him easily, even without the chords written there. Blaine had played it for him. Several times. It was one of Kurt's favorites, and he had lain in his bed more times than he could count letting those words lull him to sleep. And it was _his_. All the evidence pointed to it. He still wasn't sure about Wes and David's theory on Blaine's feelings for him, but this certainly did make it not entirely impossible. That song, after all...

Everyone in the quiet room jumped as there was a sharp tug on the door handle. Dark, messy hair was visible through the window, and David and Wes instinctively dived behind the nearest solid object. For Wes, that was the piano. For David... it was Finn. Who still looked confused. Wes and David peeked out after a few moments of silence and then cursed loudly as Blaine appeared, looking none too pleased (but, Kurt noted internally, very rugged and undeniably sexy).

Blaine smiled at his cowering friends in a way that Kurt had never seen him smile before. It did not bode well at all for either of them. "Hey, geniuses." Blaine addressed the pair in a tone vacillating between barely leashed anger and worrying calm. "Next time you decide to hide out, you might want consider locking _both the doors._"


	4. Chapters 4, 5, and 6

_A/N Here is the final part. I know it's longer than the rest of the story combined, but I spent hours trying to work out where to cut it, and I didn't like any of the options. So... I'm sorry about that. I can only suggest that you pace yourself. I hope you enjoy).  
_

_Oh, and there's a little bit of angst. I won't apologize, as I think it's necessary, but I'm warning you nonetheless.  
_

_Disclaimer: I don't own them._

_Also: Several reviews have mentioned that listening to the song mentioned later (when it comes up) has improved the reading experience. I'm all for that, so I recommend it. )  
_

* * *

Will Schuester was not having a good day. He'd spilled coffee on his tie that morning, had a meeting with a parent before school who had objected to his teaching methods on the grounds that "[her] baby didn't need any stupid Spanish class anyway" and, to top it off, had received a lecture from Sue at lunch about the potential hazards that excessive use of hair products posed to the reproductive system (and what a blessing that would probably be for humanity in his case). So it would be fair to say that he was looking forward to the Glee meeting, but it would also be fair to say that he was looking forward to going home and taking a nap to get rid of his rapidly intensifying migraine.

He'd been considering canceling the meeting anyway, as he was not at his most authoritative, which is why he had been kind of relieved when the two Dalton boys had interrupted Santana and Rachel's argument. It had been a _very_ long day.

After they had locked the door and started talking to Kurt, Will had realized that there was something bigger than spying going on here. Aside from diffusing Rachel Berry with apparent ease (an impressive skill), that boy (Kurt had called him Wes) had given some pretty intelligent suggestions when it came to song choices. Will found himself pulling out a pen and scribbling a new set list down quickly. It wasn't until the third (far less put together) Dalton boy entered the room that Will began to wonder if he was going to have to intervene.

Bloodshed at a Glee meeting would not be something that Sue would let go of anytime soon.

* * *

Blaine stood there looking at his roommate and best friend. To be honest, he had looked first to see the expression on one other specific face in the room, but seeing it smiling (and with no trace of alarm), figured that his friends must still be in the early stages of their plan to ruin his life. "Wes. David. Hallway. Now. Please?" It took an unprecedented amount of control to not drag them out there bodily, but Blaine didn't want to create a bad impression. These were Kurt's _friends_. And he was Kurt's _friend_. And killing _his friends_ would have to wait until they were out of earshot. Not to mention there was a teacher there, and Blaine had never been one to disrespect authority... even if the authority appeared not to be paying attention. Wes and David seemed to realize that their time was up, and trudged into the hallway looking dejected. Blaine turned to the room before he followed them and smiled charmingly at the group. He waved at Mercedes, who waved back, clearly amused. "Well... hello, New Directions! I'm Blaine, a friend of Kurt's from Dalton. You all seem like lovely people, and I want very much to meet you, but I have something quite important to take care of first. I know this is not the best first impression I could have made, but – ah – I'll be back in a moment." He looked directly at Kurt, whose arms were across his stomach as though he was protecting something. _Himself, probably,_ Blaine thought... _From the insanity that is Wes and David_. He still looked confused, and Blaine couldn't blame him. He smiled briefly at Kurt and held up a finger to show he'd be right back, and went out into the hallway. He really needed to talk to his "best friends" for a moment.

He had almost hoped that they'd run. That was a ridiculous thought, of course... even if they had gone, he lived with one of them, and the other was always one door down. But it was still a little startling to see the two of them slouching against the McKinley lockers. At least, it was until Wes looked up and tried to engage in smalltalk.

"So, Blaine, did you take the freeway to get here? Because you got here quite quickly, and I was wondering if -"

"Wes."

"Yes, Blaine?"

"Shut up."

"Ok, then."

There was silence for a minute, and then David's mouth seemed to be forced open by his brain.

"Blaine, I know you're mad at us, but we're your best friends - and we know how you feel - and we want you to be happy - so we decided that the only way was to -"

"Invade my privacy?"

"No! Well, yes, but... in the good way!"

Blaine laughed, but there was very little humor in it.

Wes decided to try again. "Listen, man, the way we went about this may not have been completely cool, but you have to know that we only did this because we thought it would make you happy."

Blaine saw the sincerity gleaming in his friend's eyes and reflected that psychopaths rarely recognized that what they were doing was wrong either.

Wes continued, his confidence growing. " So I know that you really can't see this right now, but we were trying to be better friends to you... it wasn't like we were trying to upset you! We didn't read it, or anything!"

David nodded in agreement "Yeah, Operation Sugarplum was entirely selfless!"

Blaine couldn't help himself. He snorted. "Sugarplum?" He shook his head as he remembered what the plan had been. "Never mind. Just give me the notebook and go back to school – we'll talk about this when I get back. I have to go fix this."

He held out his hand expectantly, not liking the looks that crossed the two boys' faces in the least.

"Guys. Give me the notebook. This is over."

"We... um... don't have it."

Blaine had been relatively proud of how calm he'd stayed so far, but it was taking every ounce of his self-control (and he had a fair amount of it) not to snap."I see. And where is it?"

"Kurt has it."

_Aaand... snap._

"WHAT?" Blaine shouted for the first time, and recognized on some deep level that it wasn't as fun as he'd thought it would be. That didn't mean he was done with it just yet, though. "YOU ACTUALLY LET HIM SEE– YOU - YOU - GAVE IT TO HIM?"

"Yeah. Kurt has it. In there." Wes pointed to the room, hoping to distract his nearly apoplectic friend enough to stop him yelling by reminding him that he could be heard. It worked. Blaine's voice returned to a normal decibel level, although it was still angry. Very, very angry.

"Do you mean to say," Blaine spluttered, "that you actually let him – you stole and – you actually _gave_ him my - diary?"

"It isn't a diary," David pointed out reasonably, parroting the sentiment Blaine had expressed to him hundreds of times, "it's your song writing notebook."

"Same FUCKING difference." Blaine spat the words, and for the first time Wes noticed that he avoided eye contact with them, like he couldn't stand to even look in their direction. He then took a breath, closed his eyes, and his voice sounded exhausted when he finally spoke again. "Go back to school. Both of you."

He didn't even look angry anymore. He just looked totally disappointed. Wes could remember his mother looking at him like that after he'd finger painted the entire white carpeted living room as a child (because she'd refused to let him move to Disneyland). He watched his best friend massage his temples for a moment, dismiss the two of them with half a gesture, then open the door to the choir room and step back in. In that moment Wes kind of wished that Blaine had just punched him instead.

* * *

Kurt didn't know why he'd shoved the notebook under his jacket when Blaine walked in. It was a stupid thing to do. It was Blaine's notebook, after all, and he had no reason to think that he would care that Kurt had looked at it. Except... he _would_ care. Kurt knew him well enough by to know that as open and proud as his friend was, there were things he didn't want to talk about. Which made Kurt the lowest form of life on the planet. Wes had told him the notebook meant that Blaine liked him. And what had he said?

'_Sure, Wes. Blaine's one of my best friends, and trusts me totally. Let me just violate that trust __completely by reading all of his private thoughts, so that he'll never trust me again. But hey, maybe I'll see my name with a heart around it, so it'll all be worth it.'_

Kurt was genuinely ashamed of himself. He decided this while Blaine was out in the hallway talking to Wes and David. He also decided that there was definitely a secondary reason he'd hidden the notebook, and that reason made him not only the worst person and friend in human existence, but also probably a monster. Luckily for everyone, Blaine would probably come tell him that he didn't want to be friends anymore very soon, and then he'd be left alone.

And he'd deserve it.

Because he was a monster.

When he'd read those words, the ones scribbled when Blaine had been alone, scared, and in the darkest place imaginable, Kurt had felt... relieved_. _He knew it was terrible, but seeing someone else in that place had been like glimpsing a way out.

Obviously he'd already known that Blaine had been in similar circumstances to him. They'd talked about it a great deal. He'd also guessed that Blaine had nearly cracked under the pressure – several cryptic comments and worried reassurances had led Kurt to put two and two together. But as well as he'd known all that, he realized while reading Blaine's agonized thoughts that on some level he'd never really believed that this handsome, well-adjusted, wonderful boy before him could have ever really been where Kurt was. Not as deep. Not _really_. Blaine was just too dazzling to have ever been in danger.

Reading that notebook had made him realize what an idiotic thought that had been. Because he could finally see Blaine there, sitting on the floor of his high school hallway, having been hissed at and pushed down and made to feel like he didn't matter. He could see him crying onto the page as he tried to write out his feelings, frustrated when recording them didn't make them hurt any less. But most of all he could see glimpses of that scared boy in the strong person he knew.

And that was the other reason he was clutching the notebook to his chest. He loved that scared little boy. That boy was him, and Blaine, and thousands of other kids that had cried themselves to sleep wondering if maybe it would be better to be just like everyone else. He needed that close to him. He needed the pain close to his pain. It made him... happy.

He really was a monster.

* * *

Blaine approached Kurt as one would a frightened animal. No one was quite sure why, least of all Kurt himself, who was torn further apart by guilt at the gentle sound of Blaine's voice. "Kurt," he asked softly, "can I talk to you outside for a moment?"

Kurt nodded immediately and jumped up, which was an obvious surprise. He figured he'd better grab as much Blaine-time as possible before he was found out. He turned to Mr. Shue. "Is it okay if I -"

The teacher was scribbling excitedly on his notepad and waved towards the door absently.

"Sure, go home, Kurt. Have fun."

"O...k." Kurt took this in and waved to the rest of the club. "I guess I'm going. See you all later."

Everyone said their goodbyes to Kurt in their own way (Mercedes: You had better fill me in later, boy!... Santana: Get it, Kurt!... Finn: Dude, are you sure you're okay?... Brittany: I'll miss you baby Kurtie! Bring me back a postcard!) and Blaine ushered him out the door with a smile and a wave to the group.

And then they found themselves alone in the hallway. With both far too much and nothing at all to say.

* * *

There was silence in the choir room for a long moment.

"Well," Santana commented dryly, "it looks like they have some stuff to work out. And by 'work out' I mean -"

"We know what you mean, Santana." Quinn cut her off quickly. "You don't need to clarify."

"Maybe not, but _they_ certainly need to go get their -"

Finn interjected, seemingly having come to some sort of conclusion.

"Does anyone else think," he asked ,with a confused but hopeful smile, "that the fact that some of the Warblers are clearly _insane _might work in our favor?"

* * *

Out in the hallway, Blaine was kind of feeling like he needed to start speaking, otherwise the silence would bury them both alive.

"Listen, Kurt, before anything else I need us both to acknowledge the fundamental truth that Wes and David are clearly insane." That wasn't a lie, at least.

One corner of Kurt's mouth quirked up into a smile. Blaine would take it. "They mean well. I think."

"Yeah, well some psychopaths do. About the notebook -"

Kurt seemed to remember something then, and his smile fell. Blaine cursed Wes and David to the darkest depths of hell for letting Kurt see the innermost workings of his mind... and how much of them revolved around Kurt. He took the notebook that the worried boy pulled out of his jacket and shifted it between his hands for a moment before slipping it into his pocket. No. He needed something in his hands. He pulled it back out again and ran his finger along the edges, like he had done hundreds of times before. "...Thanks."

"You're welcome."

And that, Blaine thought, was that. Kurt didn't want to talk about what he'd seen any more than Blaine wanted to talk about what he'd written. Clearly he had been right all along – well, the smaller, more rational part of his brain had been right, anyway. He had been a mentor to Kurt, who had needed someone to talk to. And like the idiot that he was, Blaine had gone and fucked it up. Wes and David had helped significantly, obviously, but he wasn't willing to give them too much credit. They had been trying to act on feelings Blaine had been attempting to hide, and it would have only been a matter of time before he said or did something that would have let Kurt know how he felt. He'd have let slip that the intense blue of his eyes was the precise shade Blaine dreamed about every night. Or that he'd gone through his entire contact list changing everyone to boring, flat ringtones because he'd wanted Kurt's to be special. Or that he'd spent more than a few nights on youtube watching videos of New Directions performances, identifying Kurt's voice singing the harmonies and being absurdly and undeservedly proud that such an amazing boy looked up to _him_.

...And those were just the family friendly pathetic stories. Blaine was a teenage boy. And while he was certain that what he felt for his_friend_ was more than simple lust, there was a healthy dose of good old fashioned _**want**_ in there... moments when he had to restrain himself from reaching forward and _touching._..There were times he wanted Kurt near him so badly he felt like he could barely breathe. It was almost like -

_No_. _Stop it_. Blaine nearly slapped himself across the face before he remembered that that might be perceived as a little bit odd. By Kurt. Whose lips he had been staring at while he was thinking. _Oh god_.

"Well, I should probably go slowly torture and kill my best friends now." He gestured towards the door and stepped away to begin his escape. If he went now he might make it to his car before he screamed at the top of his lungs. And that would be preferable.

"Wait... we aren't going to talk?" There was such hurt in Kurt's voice that Blaine's selfish impulses (which were fighting with all they had to make him _run, run and never come back_) were quashed instantly by his protective instincts. The words had barely left Kurt's mouth before Blaine had whirled around in concern. He didn't give in to habit and immediately go over to comfort him, though, and that took an enormous amount of self control. Which, Blaine quipped internally, seemed to be his middle name... NOT. He chose his next words very carefully. He was _not_ taking this as a chance to fix things, because he didn't deserve it. He was just going to help Kurt. That was all.

"Was there... something specific that you wanted to discuss?"

Kurt looked at him like he had grown a second head. A head which had then begun to juggle knives and whistle show tunes.

"Well, I thought we might briefly discuss some things..." he started with confidence but his voice trailed off in obvious discomfort. Blaine internally cursed Wes and David again for good measure. "... things like the notebook, and some of the stuff I read..."

"Ah." He was sure that wasn't the correct response. He needed a guidebook for this conversation. Hell, he needed a _map_. "Ok."

Where did that come from? He should leave. This was irreparable, and he'd only do more damage. But who was he kidding? He'd stay here forever if Kurt asked him to, even though he knew they had no chance at..._ anything _anymore.

God, he missed his guitar. He had a few quite songs he'd abandoned a long while ago that he bet he was just depressed enough to be able to finish. And Wes would have to listen all night. Good. He deserved it.

"D'you want to go outside?"

Blaine jumped slightly, and then nodded. He followed Kurt out the doors and into the quad, where they sat down on a bench. He didn't know how to start apologizing. But he was a fixer at heart, and he'd opened his mouth to try when Kurt turned to him with tears in his eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me how bad it got?"

Confused... Blaine was now _confused_. What was bad?

"How bad _what_ got?"

"The bullying! When you were at school... I mean, you told me it happened, and that it was a big deal, but that" – he gestured to the notebook with vehemence as the tears began to escape down his cheeks- "goes so far beyond what you told me, and now you're going to hate me, and -"

"Woah, wait..." Blaine cut him off, fairly certain that he had become part of an entirely new conversation at some point, he just had no idea when. He instinctively put his arm around the crying boy's shoulders, and traced soothing circles on his arm. He caught himself doing this a minute later, and sternly forced his other hand to stay on the notebook balancing on his lap.

After a moment he turned his attention back to Kurt. "What are you talking about? You're mad at me for keeping stuff from you? Or do you think I'm mad at you for reading this?"

Kurt's sobs were breaking his heart. "H-y-yes." A pause. "H-b-b-oth."

"Alright, well you're completely wrong about at least half of that. And why are you crying?"

"For – him" - he pointed at the book - "I- mean – you – and- me – and _how-h -are- h – you – h - still so – h- calm about – h - this_?"

"I'm not." Blaine replied simply,"I just have absolutely no idea what _this_ is. But you can explain to me, once you calm down. And while you do that I'll try to explain why you're so entirely wrong about me being mad at you." Kurt nodded, and Blaine took that as a sign to begin. He released Kurt's shoulder (and must have _imagined_ that Kurt looked at it with slight sadness afterwards, he told himself) and picked up the notebook, flipping to the page he wanted. It was the Rent quote – the one that Kurt had identified as the beginning of the darkness. He ran a hand over the page before he began speaking, tracing some of the letters, and when his voice came Kurt though it sounded very far away.

"It _was_ worse than I told you. I mean, you know most of it, and I never _lied_ to you, but... yeah. It got bad."

"How bad?" It was a whisper. Blaine turned to meet his eyes, then pointed to the words below the quote on the following page. '_Let me out?'_, a young Blaine asked.

"Bad enough for me to consider what my options were. _All _of my options. Over and over. Every night, for weeks and months."

"Did you ever..."

"Try to kill myself?" Blaine paused, and then looked back at Kurt, his face unreadable. "No. I decided that I was worth it. But I had to decide that every single day. And it was close, a couple of times..." He flipped the pages a few more times, speeding through the months of hell, and then he came to Dalton. His first day. "And then I got out the right way. Found a place to be, found people to be with..."

"And he – you – it was okay?"

"Eventually, yeah. I think so."

Kurt pointed at the pages "What about him?"

"Who?"

"You – the scared little boy. When I read about him, I felt like..."

"Like what?" _Tell me, Kurt._

"It's horrible. You'll hate me."

"I very much doubt that." _Hate you? Me? Ha._

"I'm horrible."

"No, you aren't." _You have no idea._

"You don't know."

"So tell me." _Please._

"I felt...happy."

_Hmmm._

"What do you mean?"

"I told you."

"Kurt. Happy about what?"

"That he went through it too. What kind of person does that make me?"

"Kurt, 'he' is _me_."

"I know. That's why it's terrible."

"It isn't."

"Stop it."

"You're glad that that scared boy eventually became someone stronger. That makes you the kind of person with hope. And maybe I should have told you about it in more detail already, and tried to make you understand. Maybe it was a lie of omission, but... I didn't want you to think less of me. And that's not a time I like to dwell on very much."

"Yeah, but..." Blaine could see Kurt fighting to retain his skewed view of the situation. Finally he seemed to acknowledge the truth of what he was being told. "...you could have told me."

Blaine nodded. He knew that.

"So... you aren't mad at me?"

Blaine snorted. Then he realized that might not give the impression that he was giving the matter proper consideration... and so he considered. Wes and David had invaded his privacy. Kurt had, in a way, too. He'd kept reading. But while he was angry at Wes and David wanting to interfere in his life, when it came to Kurt he felt kind of... flattered. He knew that was a double standard, but he was too emotionally exhausted to particularly care.

"Mad? For my friends making you read something that freaked you out? Not really. Honestly... I'd probably have shown you most of that stuff myself... someday. When everything was ok. It's just... buried kind of deep. But the other stuff, well... I'm just sorry that they ended this by putting everything out there."

It was Kurt's turn to be confused. "Ended? What everything?"

He didn't want to talk about it. Blaine should probably back off. But for some absurd reason the word COURAGE was circling around in his brain and he finally figured that if there was ever a time when he had nothing to lose then this was it.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you saw the stuff I wrote...the later stuff."

There was silence and Blaine started to panic. Until:

"Why didn't you tell me you'd written me a song?"

_Ah_. So he'd seen that. And he was probably freaking out. _Fuck._

"A song?"

"Blaine."

"Which song?" Nonchalance was not his thing.

So Kurt started to hum the song, right there in the quad. Of course he knew it. Blaine had only played it for him every chance he could, trying to work up the nerve to tell him who had inspired it... tell him that he had sat at his desk all night (with Wes throwing nerf balls at him in irritation) because he had suddenly known exactly what the song needed to sound like. He'd had the piano part almost completely written in his head before he touched the keys the next morning.

That piano part was now being hummed to him, by Kurt, note perfectly. He had to stop this, or he'd have to kiss him. It was too much. He looked away.

"You know, songs come from a variety of different places. To say that one person is the inspiration for a song is like saying that a cake has only one ingredient, or -" _Lie, lie, lie._

He stopped humming. Blaine missed the sound terribly. "Oh."

* * *

That one syllable contained so much mortification and sadness that Blaine allowed himself to look at Kurt's face. He had just lied. Majorly, not a little one of omission. So he knew why _he_ felt like crap. But clearly Kurt was not relieved that he (said that he) hadn't been writing songs about him, like some...well... lovesick teenager. _Fuck_, this was_confusing_.

Kurt seemed embarrassed. Blaine could relate, even if he had no idea why. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"We are NOT doing that again."

"It's nothing" Kurt snapped, and Blaine was surprised. "I just... kind of liked the idea. That's all."

"Of the song?"

"Of it being...mine. Written for me."

Blaine took a deep breath. "It was."

"But you just said -"

"I lied."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yes. Really."

"Then or now?"

Blaine grinned despite himself. "Don't push it, Hummel."

Kurt grinned back, and Blaine's poor tired heart sighed in relief. He kept smiling. Until:

"Sing it to me."

"What?"

"My song. Sing it to me. It's mine, right?"

"Well, yeah." He looked around nervously for an excuse. "But I don't have my guitar, or a piano or -"

"Blaine, you sing the lead vocals in an all boys _A Cappella show choir_."

"Ah. Right..."

"Please?"

Blaine sighed out loud this time, and Kurt could tell it was a sign of reluctance, acquiescence, and, just maybe, relief. And then Blaine opened his mouth and coherent thought was no longer a possibility for Kurt. Hazel eyes were staring directly into blue, and he was humming the opening chords, and Kurt fixated on his face, deciding that talking was distinctly overrated.

And then Blaine took another breath, closed his eyes to silently ask whoever was listening for strength, and started to sing quietly.

"_I've been alone,_

_Surrounded by darkness,_

_And I've seen how heartless_

_the world can be."_

His eyes were on Kurt's face again, singing directly to him, and Kurt thought he'd very much like time to stop.

"_And I've seen you crying_

_You feel like it's hopeless._

_I'll always do my best_

_to make you see..."_

His voice, which had stayed quiet to begin with, gained strength on the chorus, and began to echo slightly in the space, making Kurt feel like time might actually have stood still. He wasn't going anywhere to check, though.

"_Baby, you're not alone_

_'cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's gonna bring us down_

_'cause nothing can keep me from loving you._

_And you know it's true._

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through._

_Now, I know it ain't easy._

_But it ain't hard trying._

_Every time I see you smiling_

_And I feel you so close to me_

_And you tell me_

_Baby you're not alone,_

_'cause you're here with me._

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_'cause nothing can keep me from from loving you_

_And you know it's true._

_It don't matter what'll come to be,_

_Our love is all we need to make it through."_

Kurt thought that he had never found the words "our love" more beautiful.

"_I still have trouble_

_I trip and stumble_

_Trying to make sense of things sometimes._

_I look for reasons,_

_But I don't need 'em._

_All I need is to look in your eyes -"_

Yes, eyes. Eyes. Eyes were good. He would very much like Blaine's to look at him like that forever._  
_

_And I realize -"_

Kurt knew Blaine was a performer, but this was ridiculous. It was completely different to his performances, for one thing, he was making every word, every note, count, as though he could burn the song into both their memories. As though it wasn't in Kurt's already. He was talking about _him_. _To_ him.

"_Baby I'm not alone_

_'Cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's ever gonna **take** **us down**"_

The last three words were beautifully punctuated, and Kurt could see Blaine's fingers itching to play the chords.

"_'Cause nothing can keep me from loving you_

_And you know it's true._

_It don't matter what'll come be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through._

_Oh, 'cause you're here with me..._

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_'cause nothing nothing nothing can keep me from loving you..."_

Having those beautiful words sailing out of those beautiful lips in that beautiful falsetto should be illegal, Kurt thought. Then he met those hazel eyes again and stopped thinking.

"_And you know it's true._

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_You know our love -"_

Blaine's eyes had closed to feel out the note, and Kurt just couldn't let the distance between them exist for another second. He reached his hand up to touch Blaine's cheek, and the melody stopped suddenly as every muscle in Blaine's body froze, his eyes still shut, as though he was dreaming and trying _really hard_ not to wake up. After a few seconds of contact he seemed to decide he should know just how insane he had actually become, so his eyes opened. Slowly. Hope, disbelief and confusion mixed with deep browns, mesmerizing greens and a tiny unmistakable glint of lust.

And that was all the encouragement Kurt needed to lean in and find out if Blaine tasted as good as he looked.

* * *

Singing to Kurt was the most wonderful thing Blaine had ever done. He'd sung _for_ him a thousand times, of course, and had definitely thrown several lines of Teenage Dream right _at _him, but he quickly realized that the intimacy of those moments was _nothing_ compared to singing your love song to the person you'd written it for... when they knew both it and you were theirs. Blaine had closed his eyes to try and capture the feeling forever– he'd die happy if he could only remember this moment in the seconds before he went– when he felt Kurt's hand on his cheek. His skin was soft, and warm, and Blaine figured that he must be already dead or dying, because he was pretty sure it was impossible for his heart to be beating as fast as it was without serious consequences. Maybe he was dreaming. He should open his eyes to check.

And then, like the powers-that-be had just decided to grant him everything he wanted at once, Kurt was leaning in towards him and bringing his lips to softly touch Blaine's. That touch was so many things all at once, he recognized. It was a question and an answer. A promise and a request. A plea and a demand. Kurt was hesitant, but not because he was unsure of what he wanted. He was unsure of what _Blaine_ wanted. He didn't know if Blaine wanted this or not – wanted _him_. And the boy in question, when he grasped this, thought that it was the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard. Or rather, felt. They were clearly _both_ stupid. Very, very stupid.

All of this thinking and recognition had happened in the first few seconds that their lips were touching, and when Blaine didn't immediately respond he felt Kurt tense and prepare to pull away. Which, Blaine internally scoffed, was not going to happen. Preferably ever. He let his hands (which were still on the notebook in his lap) sneak over to grab the lapel of Kurt's coat, keeping him firmly in place, their lips still touching, so he could answer all the unspoken questions. Only words, Blaine decided, were completely overrated. This was much better.

Blaine teased the kiss on by lightly brushing his lips along Kurt's, taking care to never let them lose contact. They had wasted far too much time already. He let his tongue dart out to skim over their joined bottom lips for a moment, earning a small gasp. He immediately decided that Kurt's gasp of pleasure was one of his new favorite sounds ever. He finally let the kiss deepen, bringing a hand to rest gently on the back of Kurt's neck, smiling slightly against the soft lips when he felt a tongue flick against his lips searchingly. _Yes, please_. He let his lips fall open so that their breath, and tongues, could mingle. And _oh, sweet mother of all that was magical in this world_, did Kurt taste good. Better than good - about a thousand times better than Blaine was certain it was possible to taste. As he ran his tongue along Kurt's teeth, gasping slightly in pleasure when his... erm... friend's tongue curled to wrap around his own. There must be a God, because this was heaven. Except he was alive. He hadn't even had to die to get this.

It was a messy kiss, filled with need, and longing, and months of each of them telling themselves that this wasn't what they wanted - when they both knew that this was exactly where they needed to be. It wasn't a fairytale kiss, by movie standards. And there were absolutely no fireworks to be found. But it was more true, more right, and more romantic than any kiss had been. At least, that was Blaine's thinking on the matter.

'_I could be biased, though_,' he considered, fighting the need for air in favor of coaxing Kurt's tongue further into his mouth. It was possible. Then he dismissed the idea (and all ideas) fairly quickly, because Kurt's fingers were tracing circles on his arms, as their tongues were dancing around each other, giving and taking... searching and finding.

But as good as it was, and as much as neither one of them wanted to stop, they were going to need to come up for air eventually. When that moment came they broke apart forcefully, each reeling back a few inched with the loss of contact.

"Wow" Blaine breathed, gasping for air.

"Yeah." Kurt paused. "Blaine, I -"

Blaine's eyes zeroed in on him with something approaching fierceness.

"I swear to god, Kurt, if you say that that was a mistake, or that we should forget it, I'm going to -"

"What? No! I mean.. I thought... I thought it was good." Kurt looked to him for confirmation. "Wasn't it?"

Blaine laughed and leapt to his feet, jumping around in a manner that could only be described as dorky. "Good?" He lept up to stand on the bench, and started walking along it, balancing as though he was on a tightrope. "It was _mind blowing_. It was _earth shattering_. It was Hot. As. Hell." He punctuated each word with a lift of his eyebrow. "But most importantly," he jumped down, "it was _right_." He paused. "It will also probably be the only reason I don't drive back to Dalton right now and kill Wes and David slowly, with pointy objects."

Kurt, who was grinning uncontrollably, widened his eyes at the mention of the pair. "Oh, yeah. I forgot about them."

Blaine muttered darkly. "Yeah, well I haven't."

"Why were you so mad at them?" He saw Blaine's incredulous look, and clarified. "Well, I mean, I know you were mad that they came to show that to me-" he gestured to the notebook, which was lying forgotten on the ground. Blaine picked it up and slipped it in his pocket before Kurt continued. "- but I don't understand what else it was. It wasn't the stuff about your old school, and it can't have been the stuff about me..." He trailed off as he saw Blaine flush and look sheepish. "Wait...it _was_ the stuff about me?"

"I just didn't want them to fuck everything up!" Blaine defended, running his hand through his hair again and sitting back down. "I was afraid if you read that I...had feelings for you, then you might think that was the only reason I was trying to get to know you. Or that it was the only reason we'd become friends in the first place. Or that...you wouldn't feel the same way."

Kurt scoffed. "They do just let any old idiots into Dalton, don't they?" His face softened. "I love my song, though. It's perfect for... us." He smiled at being able to use the word in a new way.

"Well, in fairness, there was the stuff _after_ the song..." Blaine blushed as he spoke, and Kurt was intrigued immediately.

"What stuff? I didn't get to read that far. I stopped when you came in." A look of relief, then one of apprehension crossed his companion's features.

"Err... nothing. Are you hungry? I'm hungry. It's past lunchtime, and I spent the morning chasing incompetent thieves around Ohio." Blaine continued to babble, offering his hand to Kurt and nodding towards the parking lot. "Let's go get lunch, I really am starved. Are there good places around here? How about pizza? I'd really like a slice of pizza right now. Shall we go?"

Kurt looked at the sincere plea in the hazel eyes, and decided to let it go. For now. He intertwined his fingers with Blaine's, noting how perfectly they fit, and stood up to join him. As they walked out of the school, each though in passing that they'd learned quite a bit that day. Blaine had learned about taking risks, and keeping his notebook on him at all times. Kurt had learned to analyze less. He smirked as he realized something else he'd learned.

He'd finally discovered that Blaine didn't taste as good as he looked.

He tasted better.

* * *

_An Epilogue:_

"Are you two ready for my latest wes-capade?"

Two weeks after what Blaine continued to refer to as "that unfortunate example of my friends' instability" Kurt and Blaine looked up from Blaine's bed, where they were reading a magazine, to find David and Wes lounging against the door-frame. Kurt raised an eyebrow in scorn.

"'Wes-capade?'"

"I know, I know. I'm brilliant. It's been mentioned." Wes spied a chocolate muffin on his roommate's desk, and pounced. "Kurt, I'm stealing your muffin. So, anyway, are you guys in?"

"It's mine," Blaine announced, looking annoyed at the interruption. "And no, thank you. We're busy."

Wes looked at the muffin suspiciously, then at Blaine, then put the treat back down on the desk.

"You're reading a _magazine_." Wes scoffed. "That isn't being _busy_. Come on! We're four single teenagers, with our whole lives ahead of us to_read magazines_. Come help me have some fun!"

Blaine waved him towards the door impatiently. "Go away, Wes. Go wreak your havoc somewhere that isn't here. Although," he paused for a sardonic lift of the eyebrow, " I would have thought – or rather _hoped_ - you might have learned to be a little more careful in choosing who you mess with."

Wes had the grace to look slightly ashamed of himself for a moment before scowling in displeasure.

"Fine," he grumbled, "David and I will go find people who want to have fun."

Blaine turned his attention back to the magazine. "You do that."

Wes stalked out, muttering something about his roommate being humorless, and David rolled his eyes and waved at them before following his friend down the hall.

As soon as the two of them were out of sight the couple went back to holding hands, Blaine tracing circles on his boyfriend's palm absently as he turned the page.

"You know", Kurt offered, "they're probably going to work out we're together eventually."

Blaine shrugged and smirked. "I hope they do."

"So why don't you tell them? Everybody else knows."

Blaine grinned fully and pressed a kiss to Kurt's cheek. "Oh, it would make Wes _far_ too smug. And David would probably tell him. Besides," he gestured to the muffin, which he then broke a piece off of and offered to Kurt, before taking a bite himself, "I'm kind of enjoying Wes sniffing all the food I give him suspiciously, and then trying to get me to take a bite first."

"You're kind of evil." Kurt noticed a crumb that clung to the side of Blaine's mouth, and decided he would be a bad boyfriend if he didn't get that for him. He snaked his tongue out and licked the crumb away before leaning quickly back to the magazine and widening his eyes in mock innocence. Blaine, whose breath had hitched gratifyingly at the contact, looked at him with narrowed eyes. Very sexy narrowed eyes.

"_I'm_ evil?"

Kurt nodded wisely. "Yes. You're so lucky I put up with you."

He laughed and turned onto his side so they were facing each other. "I suppose I am."

"I really don't know how you'll ever make it up to me."

Hazel eyes glinted with humor and something altogether more primal as Blaine leaned in to whisper in his boyfriend's ear, earning a gratifying shiver of desire. "Oh, don't worry about that." His grin was positively feral. "I have a few ideas I'm just _dying_ to try out."

* * *

Wes continued scowling as he and David walked across Dalton to the library. "Do you think Blaine is ever going to let this go and either acknowledge that we meant well or beat us up a little? Because I'm not sure I can take this whole I'm-injured-and-sarcastic thing much longer."

The edges of David's lips turned up minutely into a smile. "I don't know."

It was true. He didn't know.

Except he sort of did.

He'd seen it. It was all in the looks Blaine and Kurt gave each other when they thought he and Wes weren't looking, and the way Blaine always let his arm linger a little longer than necessary whenever they touched... the look of utter adoration Blaine got on his face whenever his phone buzzed a certain way...

But David could have dismissed all that as lingering feelings and unresolved sexual tension if he hadn't seen them earlier in the split second after Wes had opened his dorm room door, before they quite realized they had company. It was tiny. Insignificant. Wes hadn't even noticed. But David had.

In that second, both of their pinky fingers had flown away from each other like they'd been scalded.

They'd been lying together on Blaine's bed, reading a magazine with their pinky fingers intertwined.

It was so cute David had thought he might explode.

But he didn't. And he didn't tell Wes.

Because even though their (Wes') plan had worked, and even though David felt a tiny glimmer of sadness that his best friend hadn't shared his happiness with them just yet, he understood why.

And he figured that he and Wes kind of deserved it.

Especially Wes.

* * *

_A/N: Well, that's the end. I hope you enjoyed it - I know I enjoyed reading all your wonderful reviews and suggestions. I hope you'll let me know your thoughts. I have two other fics on the go, which you might like, if you want to check them out (I'm pretty excited about one in particular), or we can just go our separate ways. I leave the choice entirely up to you._

_The song is "Not Alone" (as some of you guessed from the last chapter), and it's on Darren Criss' EP, as well as the Starkid album. It's one of my favorites. I recommend it.  
_

_Also, I wish to copyright the word "Wes-capade"._

_Thanks for reading! :)_


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